“Avast pulling,” cried Mudge; “I think I hear the sound of a waterfall.”
We obeyed him. I could distinctly hear the rushing noise of a body of water coming from the upper part of the river. We again gave way, and saw before us a mass of foam produced by the water running over a ledge of rocks some six or eight feet in height, stretching directly across the river. This would effectually bar our further progress; and not to lose more time, we pulled in to the right or southern bank, towards a spot where the tall trees receding afforded an open space on which we might encamp. In other parts along the bank the vegetation was of an unusually dense character for Australia: numberless creepers hung from the branches of the lofty trees, bearing star-like flowers, some white, others of a yellow hue, shining like gold, contrasted with the dark green foliage; while the ground below and more open spaces were carpeted with a rich sward but seldom seen in that country, and produced, probably, by the spray from the waterfall cast over it when the wind blew down the river.
Pullingo, by his gestures, leading us to suppose that he considered it a good place for encamping, we accordingly landed. We found the ground harder than we had expected, as the soil, which was only a few inches deep, rested on a bed of rock, which had prevented the trees from taking root. We quickly set about forming our camp; some of the party collecting sheets of bark, aided by Pullingo, while others picked up broken branches for our fire.
While we were thus employed, a flight of the magnificent cockatoos I have before described settled on some of the branches close to the river. Pullingo, who had brought his boomerang, at once eyed them eagerly. Paddy and I, who were near him, ran for our guns; but he made a sign to us not to shoot, letting us understand that he had a far more effectual way of procuring our supper. We followed him cautiously, so as not to frighten the birds as he stole towards them. As they clustered thickly on the boughs, it was evident they intended to rest there for the night. They sat talking away to each other at a great rate for some minutes; then, having placed their sentinels and wished each other good-night, they put their heads under their wings and prepared for sleep. They little thought of the subtle foe in their neighbourhood.
Having got close under the tree without being perceived, Pullingo drew his boomerang from his belt, and retired a few paces from his shelter; then running forward, to give power to his arm, till his feet touched the margin of the stream, and throwing his right hand, which held the boomerang, over his back, he cast it directly before him with all the force of his arm. These different movements had scarcely occupied three seconds. The sentinels, meanwhile, had given a warning sound, and the birds seemed to be aware that all was not right. When, however, they saw the weapon flying towards the surface of the water, they appeared satisfied that it had nothing to do with them.
But instead of dropping into the stream, as might have been expected, it suddenly took a new direction; and flying up into the air with irresistible force, came turning round and round in the most extraordinary manner, with a whizzing sound, into the very midst of the cockatoos’ roosting-place, continuing its course among them—killing one outright, breaking the wing of another, sending another squalling to the ground, cutting open their heads, and committing all sorts of damage among the feathered inhabitants of the trees. In vain the unfortunate cockatoos, overcome with astonishment, uttered their cries of despair; in vain they endeavoured to escape the awful blows of this apparently enchanted piece of wood; the boomerang continued its eccentric course, not ceasing its gyrations till it had knocked over nearly a dozen birds, and had fallen close to the spot where its owner stood ready to receive it.
It was the first time I had ever seen the boomerang used, and I could not have believed it capable of such performances had I not witnessed them. Before the birds had recovered from their fright, the boomerang was again in their midst, whizzing round and round, as if endued with life, and committing almost as much damage as before. Pullingo was preparing to throw it a third time, when the survivors of the cockatoos, discovering that this was no secure resting-place for them, took to flight, uttering mournful cries for their lost companions—several of whom, having been roughly plucked, were speedily roasting on spits before the fire.
“Much obliged to you for the good supper you’ve procured for us, Mr Pullingo,” observed Paddy; “but it surprises me that you, who can get as many well-tasted birds as you like by throwing that bit of stick, can bring yourself to eat such horrible food as that putrid whale’s flesh. However, we all have our tastes; though I can’t say I admire yours.”
These remarks were made while we were seated round the fire, and Pullingo was gnawing away at the whole body of a cockatoo, which he had taken for his share. Though he could not understand a word the Irishman said, he seemed to have an idea that he was referring to his gastronomic powers, and he complacently stroked his stomach, to show that he was enjoying his food.
Having finished our meal, we prepared ourselves for sleep, each of us having placed a piece of bark on the ground to serve as a mattress, under shelter of the upright pieces, according to the native fashion. Pullingo was quickly snoring, showing his confidence in us; but Mudge thought it would be wiser to keep watch, in case any strange natives might pay us a visit during the night. We knew that we had no danger to apprehend from savage animals, as even the dingo, the only carnivorous quadruped in the country, will not attack a human being able to offer the slightest resistance. We could not, however, tell what a pack of such brutes might do should they find us asleep.